


(Not) Made For Anyone

by MintSauce



Series: The Halfway House [26]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Uncle!Ian, Uncle!Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintSauce/pseuds/MintSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey matures. The boys have a series conversation. And Ellie makes them all bake a cake!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> socalbetty on Tumblr asked for some more Uncles Ian and Mickey. I've got a couple of pieces ready for them doing that, but this is the first. 
> 
> Any random keysmashes are my dog's fault!

Once every two months on the last Saturday of that month, they’re responsible for Ellie.

Mandy says it’s because of her Chicago Date Night, but Ian knows that she’s not stupid. She just knows they want to spend time with their niece and Mickey’s too stubborn to just come right out and say that. So there has to be some sort of back and forth, Mandy has to be getting something out of it too.

And she is, she says.

She’s going on dates, she says.

Ian thinks she just buys herself dinner or a spa treatment or just sleeps for the day. He can’t blame her and he isn’t going to call her out on it if she wants them to think she’s dating.

“What sort of frosting do you want?” Ian asks, looking down at the little girl in the cart.

She’s just as adorable at two-years-old as she was at six months and one week. She’s flawless, all porcelain skin and pale blonde curls. She looks like a little doll, especially dressed in her little red dress, matching pumps on and a cute little hat tugged down on her head to protect against the cold.

Still, it’s her eyes that Ian finds the most beautiful. They’re her mother’s eyes. They’re Mickey’s eyes.

“Chocolate,” she says, flashing him those pearly whites and staring up at him.

The _duh_ is implied.

“How could I be so stupid?” he asks dramatically, grabbing a tub of readymade chocolate buttercream icing off the shelf and bowing in front of her, offering it for her inspection. “Will this one pass the test, m’lady?”

She giggles and it’s a beautiful sound.

“You silly, Uncle Ee,” she says, clapping her hands and taking the pot off him. She drops it carelessly into the cart behind her and for a second Ian is really glad they haven’t gotten the eggs yet.

They’ll do those last.

She looks up at him very seriously then and says, “Luv you.”

Ian beams. He can’t help it.

“And I love you too, monstermunch,” he says. He reaches out a hand and steals her nose, cackling at the outraged scream.

“UNCLE, EE, GIVE BACK!”

“Never!” he says, waving his arm up out of reach of her little ones.

They’re getting a couple of weird stares, but one tired-looking woman is smiling at them like she thinks this whole display is adorable. Which it is, _thank you very much_.

**I can hear you from all the way over here, fuckwit.**

Ian laughs at the text that comes through from Mickey on his phone.

He looks around like he expects Mickey to be standing right behind him. Disappointingly he isn’t.

Ellie uses the opportunity of his distraction to snatch her ‘nose’ back out of his hand, pushing it onto her face and sticking her tongue out when he laughs.

He sends: _**Well where is you’re here? By in my here! Where are youuuuuuuuuuuuuu!**_

**Calm your fucking tits, Jesus. I’m coming _._**

Ian’s about to text back a comment about how he certainly will be later when there’s a cough off to the side.

“Ian?”

He looks up, frowns because he doesn’t… no wait… yes he does.

“Hi,” he says. He can already feel the heat rising in the back of his neck. He scratches at it awkwardly. “Um…”

“James,” the man standing beside him says. He looks a little put out that Ian didn’t remember his name, but it isn’t too bad.

That was always his problem, he was just too nice.

“Right,” Ian says.

He could barely remember James when they were together, but now that the man is standing in front of him it’s even harder. As teenagers he had the whole twink look right down to pat and even though he seems to have filled out slightly, he’s still got a ridiculous haircut Ian knows Mickey would immediately label as _gay as fuck_.

The only thing that Ian really remembers about James besides the major flaws in their relationship was the moment the broke up. He remembers the look on the other boys face, remembers how little he’d cared.

He feels bad about that now he thinks about it.

“How… how are you?” he asks.

James shrugs, runs a hand over the shaved side of his scalp. “I’ve been good, real good,” he says. “Yourself?”

“Great,” Ian says.

He jumps when Ellie’s hands touch the back of his over the handle of the cart. She’s looking at him curiously, way too perceptive for a two-year-old, but then it runs in the family. All of the Milkovich’s seem to be good at picking up on things normal people wouldn’t.

“What’s up, monstermunch?” he asks, reaching out to adjust Ellie’s hat slightly.

She holds onto Ian’s fingers with one hand, thumb tracing the smooth top of his nail in that way she’s done ever since she was a baby.

“Sprinkles?” she asks.

“You want sprinkles on your cake?”

Ellie nods.

“Sprinkles we shall find then,” he says, doing his best to look dramatic again so that she laughs.

He’s almost forgotten about James then, until the other man coughs lightly again. “She yours?” he asks. “She’s beautiful.”

 _Is this what you came over for?_ Ian can’t help but think. _You think I’m playing straight now?_ _Is that it?_

Otherwise he’s at a loss as to why exactly a barely two month relationship when he was seventeen would feel the need to come over and have a serious conversation. It’s not like there was ever anything much between them. After Mickey leaving, Ian had never let himself get close enough to anyone for that to happen.

Ian can’t help but grin anyway, tugging on one of the little girl’s curls affectionately. “My niece,” he says, but then, “And yeah, she is.” She’s the most beautiful girl that there’s ever been and he refuses to hear otherwise.

 “Well she obviously adores you,” James says.

“She better,” Ian says, smiling down at Ellie like she’s hung the moon. He’s seen the picture evidence, he knows what expression he must have on his face. “Isn’t that right! I’m your favourite, aren’t I?”

The little traitor just giggles, yelling, “Uncle Mick!”

Although, that might have something more to do with the man that’s plucking her from the cart.

Mickey laughs, propping Ellie on a hip and beaming at her like they didn’t just seen each other fifteen minutes ago. They’d parted ways so Mickey could run to the bank. “How’s it going, trouble?” Mickey asks. “You buying the place out?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says seriously.

“Good, we’re gonna make the mother of all cakes!” Mickey says, righting Ellie’s hat where it’s slipped down on her head again.

Ian kicks him in the ankle lightly.

“What?” Mickey asks, pulling a face at him, “I didn’t swear.”

“Still…” Ian mutters, rolling his eyes. He wants to take out his phone and take a picture of the two of them, but it’s not like he doesn’t already have about a hundred of photos exactly like the one the two of them would make now.

He can’t help it, he just loves photographing his favourite Milkovichs.

Ian can tell the exact moment that Mickey notices who is standing beside him. And Ian doesn’t know how, but it’s almost like Mickey remembers the face of the guy he saw from a distance all those years ago.

Mickey goes tense, jaw working as he stares down James.

“What do you want?” he asks and if it had been years ago, he probably would have been cracking his knuckles. Instead, he’s just scowling and standing there next to a shopping cart full of cake ingredients, a toddler in his arms.

James starts slightly, looking a weird combination of put out and taken aback. He chews his bottom lip nervously and then holds his hands up in an obvious placating move. “Just thought I’d swing by and say hi,” he says. “It’s been a few years, you know.”

“Yeah,” Mickey says and his posture relaxes just enough to make it believable. “You uh… sorry about how it went down, when Ian left the…”

Ian looks at Mickey in surprise. He’s not sure how he thought this conversation was going to go, but it certainly wasn’t with Mickey… apologising? Was that what he was doing?

James nods. “I know,” he says. He motioned between the two of them. “Worked out for the best in the end though, didn’t it? If you two are still together. Wouldn’t have wanted to get in the way of that.”

Mickey almost smiles, nudging Ian with his hip playfully. “Guess there are just some things you can’t prevent,” he says.

“I guess there must be,” James says. “Anyway, it was cool to see you again. Have a good day.”

With that he was gone, but Ian couldn’t care less. He was staring at Mickey. Staring at his gorgeous boyfriend like he’d grown a second head. Since when did Mickey act like the bigger person? Since when did he apologise?

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mickey mutters, nudging him again. “Just feel bad for the guy is all.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Mickey?” Ian asks, pushing the cart down the aisle after Mickey.

Mickey just shakes his head, shifting Ellie around on his hip. “Don’t,” he says and Ian actually pulls up short. “I just… I saw you together once, before that day. You weren’t unhappy. So… it could have been the other way around, couldn’t it? Could have been me running into you in the fucking flour aisle.”

Not it couldn’t have been.

“No it couldn’t have been,” Ian says honestly. He grabs Mickey’s elbow gently to make him stop, holds his chin so that the other man can’t look away. “It couldn’t have been anyone but you. I’m not made for anyone but you, Mick.”

And he means it, he means it in a way that shakes him sometimes, right the way down to his core. He couldn’t be without Mickey. Sure, he could have faked it with someone else, with James even, but there never could have been a happy like he was happy with Mickey.

Mickey was always the only future he wanted.

Mickey smiles at him slightly and even though he rolls his eyes, Ian knows he’s shaken through to him. “Alright,” he says. “You want me to go hit him then or something? Stay in character?”

Ian laughs. “Nah, maybe I like this new Mick,” he says. “It’s _mature_.”

The face Mickey makes at that is adorable, so Ian just has to duck in and kiss him. _How is he supposed to resist?_

“Ew,” Ellie squeaks, slapping at their faces with her small hands.

Ian laughs against Mickey’s mouth and pulls back. “You jealous, monstermunch?” he asks. “You want to feel the love?”

He slobbers a fat kiss against her cheek, blows a raspberry there for good measure.

“Uncle Ee,” she says, squealing through her laughter again. Ian dances out of reach of her flailing hands and just catches Mickey’s wink before he too ducks in and blows a fat kiss against the little girl’s other cheek.

She cackles and shakes her head at them, wriggling to be put down. Once there, she folds her arms and stares up and them both with an expression so like her mother it’s scary. “Ew,” she says, wiping her cheeks off. “Ew.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ellie sighs, looking way too put out or your average two-year-old. Still, she lets go of her nose and holds onto the sieve like Ian instructs her.

He was right, of course he was. Flour does end up all over everything. He has to measure more out because at least half winds up in his hair, on the floor, on his clothes and all over Ellie. She looks like Casper’s child, just two blue eyes blinking at him from underneath all the white powder.

How it happened, Ian couldn’t tell you.

Mickey couldn’t either. One minute he was watching television and everything was fine and the next, he looks back at the kitchen to find chaos. Then he can’t stop laughing.

“Shut up,” Ian warns him as he taps in the coco powder and starts folding it all together. “It’s not funny.”

“It kinda is!”

Ian just shakes his head, watching Ellie out of the corner of his eye to make sure she doesn’t fall off the counter as he finishes off the mixture. She’s not doing much anymore, not even trying to help. She’s just sitting with her hands on her knees, bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“What’s up, monster munch?” he asks, stopping he moment he sees that little lip wobble.

Ellie shakes her head, curls bouncing and flour falling all around her. Not that it really matters at this point, it’s already all over everything.

“Hey,” he says softly, putting the spatula down and standing in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She latches onto his fingers when he sets his hands either side of her and when their eyes meet, hers are large and wet. “’m sorry,” she mumbles eventually, looking away.

“What for?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

He looks around, at all the flour.

“You mean for all this?” he shakes his head, but when the small cloud of white drifts down in front of his face, Ellie doesn’t laugh like he wanted her to.

She gives him a small nod.

“It’s just a bit of flour, baby,” he says, brushing back the curls that fall into her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her breath hitches slightly and she finally looks up at him again. “You not mad?”

He laughs lowly and pulls her against his chest. “No, baby, I’m not mad,” he says. “Why would I be mad? I thought we were having fun.” He picks her up off the counter her legs wrapping around his chest and her arms latching onto his neck like a vice.

She hiccups into the side of his neck and Ian’s heart feels like its breaking.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding her close. “Is it ‘cause I told off your Uncle Mick?”

He can feel her nod.

“Well I’m not mad at him either, baby, I promise,” he says. “I just like to make him think I am when he laughs at me. But I’m not mad.”

“No?” she pulls back to look at him.

There are two perfect tear tracks through the flour on her face. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn painful to see.

He shakes his head. “No. I love you and your Uncle Mick too much to be mad, okay? Especially over a bit of flour.”

She nods and presses her palms against his cheeks. They’re sticky and hot, but he pushes into the touch anyway.

“Now, do you want to finish off these cakes or what?” he asks. She goes easily when he sets her back onto the counter.

Across the room, he meets Mickey’s eyes and even covered head to toe in flour, he smiles.

 

*****

 

Later, Ellie is splashing around in the bath and Ian still has flour in his hair when Mickey corners him.

“What’s up?” Ian only just manages to ask before Mickey has a tongue down his throat.

He tries to keep his groan quiet as Mickey’s hand fists in the back of his hair, dragging him in closer as he bites at Ian’s bottom lip. With the wall behind him, there’s nowhere to go when Mickey pushes forwards and he’s caught there between the solid force at his back and the heat of Mickey pressed against his front.

It’s cold outside, but you wouldn’t know it then.

Not with the heat trapped between them.

Mickey’s hand inches up underneath Ian’s shirt and he pinches a nipple roughly before scratching a hot path back down to Ian’s belt.

“So fucking hot when you’re playing parent,” Mickey mutters, biting at Ian’s lips again and letting Ian taste the words straight off his tongue next. He has a hand on the back of Ian’s neck, holding him fast as Mickey grinds their hips together.

It’s almost painful, trapped inside of his jeans and with Mickey forcing him back against the wall. It’s almost painful, but Ian wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Ellie’s –”

“Guess you should be quiet then,” Mickey says, kissing Ian’s throat.

He tongues at Ian’s Adam’s apple, sucks at it briefly before he moves on. He bites Ian’s collarbone through his shirt and drags the fabric up as he sinks down. He kisses Ian’s stomach, bites at the slight ‘V’ of his hipbone that’s revealed with how low his jeans are riding.

“So fucking hot,” Mickey mutters into his skin as he licks at Ian’s happy trail.

Ian grins and only just manages to hold in his moan as Mickey finally unbuckles his belt.

He’s hyperaware of the young girl just the other side of the wall he’s leaning against. He can hear her splashing in her bath, hear her giggling. He’s past caring though when Mickey is mouthing at him through the thin cotton of his boxers.

He’s so hard that it hurts, but it’s the sweetest sort of relief when Mickey finally teases the waistband down enough to suckle at the head of Ian’s cock.

Considering there is something of a time constraint, Mickey’s movements are rather languid as he traces the fat vein on the underside of Ian’s cock with his tongue. He teases just under the head, rubs his bottom lip against the source of the pre-cum steadily leaking out of Ian’s slit.

He whispers his fingers, feather-light over Ian’s thighs, nails scratching at the hairs there just barely. He slides his hands around, down the backs of Ian’s thighs, tracing behind his knees as he finally dips his head enough to take more of Ian’s cock in his mouth.

He hums quietly around the length in his mouth, somehow manages to smile around the base of Ian’s cock as Ian winds his fingers into Mickey’s hair. He doesn’t push, doesn’t even try to guide. He just wants to hold on, wants to feel Mickey’s scalp between his fingers, the soft strands of his hair under his palms.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, unable to look away from the sight of Mickey between his legs.

Lips red and shiny, stretched wide around Ian’s cock. It’s all perfect, just wet heat and the slow slide of Mickey’s tongue lapping a path back up. One of Mickey’s hands leaves the back of his knee and Ian hisses out a short hiccup of aborted breath when Mickey’s cool fingers roll his balls.

“Mick,” he breathes out, voice all awe as he traces a finger across Mickey’s jaw.

Mickey’s eyes meet his as he draws back and kisses the head of Ian’s cock softly. “I’ve got you,” he says, tugging on Ian’s balls lightly.

Ian believes him, believes everything Mickey says to him, but for some reason it feels like there’s a weight taken off his shoulders. He sags against the wall, knees locking and head knocking back against the wall.

Ellie’s singing to herself softly, nonsense words that are the only language Ian knows how to speak anymore with the buzz of pleasure rolling through his brain.

A finger catches against the rim of his hole, slick with spit and the touch is electric. It eases inside slightly and it’s all Ian is aware of all of a sudden. Mickey’s mouthing at the head of his cock again, sliding down the length, but all Ian can concentrate on is the push of Mickey’s finger. The slight burn and then the stroke of Mickey’s finger inside him, the press of it and the…

Ian almost bites straight through his lip when he comes, hips stuttering as they’re caught in the confusion between wanting to press forwards and back.

“Shh,” Mickey says, sliding to his feet. He kisses Ian’s mouth softly, chaste and sweet and as though he hadn’t just sucks Ian’s brains out a few seconds before.

“Uncle Mick!” Ellie shouts from the other room, right on time.

Mickey presses forwards and the hard jut of his cock pushes against Ian’s softened one for a second. “I’m gonna fuck you tonight, Gallagher,” he says, tucking Ian back into his boxers and fastening his belt for him. He kisses Ian again, drinking down his quiet moan. “Coming, trouble!” Mickey calls then.

Ian jumps right out of his skin and without Mickey pressed along his front, slumps down to the floor. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon, thoughts scrambling to create just a single coherent thought.

He can hear Mickey lifting Ellie out of the bath in the room behind him, can hear her chatting away in her little nonsense sentences and he should move, he should really move. But his knees feel like liquid.

He manages to lever himself upright just as Mickey carries Ellie out of the bathroom. She’s swaddled in a towel, cheeks pink and hair a tangled, wet mess all around her face. She grins when she sees him and Ian thanks God that she doesn’t know what sex hair looks like.

Mickey smirks at him, fingers trailing against the crotch of Ian’s jeans as he passes closer than strictly necessary. “You should go clean up, Gallagher,” he says, eyes skimming up Ian’s body, from his bare feet to the roots of his hair and back again. Ian can feel the stare sliding over him and can’t help but shiver.

He nods like a puppet, but he doesn’t move yet. He’s propped back against the wall, watching the muscles under Mickey’s back shift as he walks away.

“Let’s go check on those cakes,” Mickey says and that’s when Ian finally huffs out a short laugh.

He still has flour in his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't actually where I was planning on going with this chapter, it was supposed to include a serious talk prompt-fill for an anon. But this is what happened and I'm actually really quite proud of it. Tell me what you think, please. 
> 
> I was listening to [this](http://8tracks.com/thepunkparade/i-guess-i-changed-my-mind).

The door clicks shut behind Mandy and the apartment is silent for the first time all day.

Ian doesn’t know what he was expecting, maybe it was for Mickey to pounce on him the moment that the girls left. He doesn’t.

No, Mickey just starts picking up the scattered crayons and toys, putting them all into the box labelled _Ellie_ that he then slides into a cupboard out of the way. It’s only when Mickey heads over to do the dishes, making a hard sound as the jet of water hits against the metal that Ian draws the line.

He presses up against Mickey’s back, lips on the back of his neck and mutters, “What are you doing?”

Mickey huffs out a slight laugh, but his eyes are dark, pupils massive as he turns to face Ian. He slides wet fingers against Ian’s hip, touching the skin just under the edge of his t-shirt and smiles slowly. “Take your clothes off and go lie down,” he says, holding Ian’s chin and kissing him quickly. “Be patient.”

Ian goes just for the reason that Mickey never gives direct orders. He tries to boss Ian around, but there’s never any implication of consequences if Ian doesn’t follow through. This time though, this time Ian doesn’t even want to test it.

So he walks to their bedroom, stripping his clothes off as he walks and lies face down on their bed. The sheets are cold underneath him, but soft against his skin. His dick is already filling slowly and he rolls his hips down against the mattress in a way that isn’t serious, just testing.

He’s more than happy to wait to see what Mickey is going to do.

He can hear Mickey in the other room, the tap cutting off and the tap and scrape and slosh of dishes being washed. He thinks that’s going to be it then, that Mickey will trail into the room with wet fingers down Ian’s spine, but he doesn’t.

No, he can hear Mickey wiping down the counters.

Then there’s the sound of the hoover starting up, the whir of the motor as Mickey tidies up the mess of flour in the kitchen no doubt. It cuts off and Mickey still doesn’t come

The faint scent of bleach drifts through to him next, but Ian’s eyelids are already starting to slip closed. The day’s already catching up to him and with the blinds down and the room just that perfect warmth, he can already feel himself being pulled under.

He dreams they’re somewhere hot. He dreams that he’s on a sunbed, sun shining down on him and skin prickling with warmth. He dreams he’s slicking his skin up with more sunblock, freckles already standing out more starkly on his flesh, on the back of his hands.

He dreams that he looks up and Mickey’s climbing up out of the water. He dreams Mickey’s hair is dark and slick, his shoulders slightly pink. He dreams Mickey is walking towards him, trunks heavy with water and pulling down slightly to reveal a thick shadow of dark hair, just a tease of what’s between his legs.

He dreams Mickey smiles at him, lips curving into a wicked, teasing grin and he dreams his own cock is filling inside of his swimming trunks. He dreams Mickey comes closer and closer until his shadow falls over Ian.

He dreams Mickey bends, tasting like chlorine and skin so cool against where Ian is so warm. “Hey,” he whispers, lips just brushing Ian’s and…

There’s a tongue tracing down his spine.

He wakes slowly, the ghost of heat still on his skin, but there’s a better source now. Mickey is naked, skin brushing Ian’s just slightly as he holds himself over Ian’s back. His tongue is brushing against the bumps of Ian’s spine and he kisses the small of Ian’s back softly, so gently.

 _These hands hurt,_ Ian thinks, _these hands heal_.

These hands are holding Ian’s waist now, thumbs moving in small circles against bone. He moves down, presses his mouth to Ian’s thigh, then further up, to where his thigh meets his ass. He slides his tongue into that join and kisses Ian there when he shivers.

Ian feels like he’s coming out of his skin.

“I love you,” Ian whispers, mouth turned out of the pillow to tell him. He has no reason, he just wants to.

Mickey doesn’t say anything, but he presses his mouth gently to the small of Ian’s back again. The feeling in Ian’s chest seems like I love you and he smiles, can’t help himself.

Ian remembers reading a quote once on the inside of one of Debbie’s diaries, left open on the table downstairs as she thought no one else was home. It had said: “ _What is the difference?” I asked him, “Between the love of your life and your soulmate.” “One is a choice, and one is not.”_

He thinks Mickey’s both, maybe. Because he didn’t choose this, he didn’t choose to go to the Halfway House and to be roomed with Mickey and to start this beautiful, crazy, addictive _thing_ between them. He hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t chosen for it to happen, but he would. If he could go back and change anything he would change nothing. This is the way he would want it, every time.

He would choose Mickey, every time.

Mickey whispers his name against the curve of his ear and Ian wonders how much time he lost just thinking, because suddenly there are fingers slick with lube playing between his cheeks. Mickey twists so he’s lying on his side beside Ian, his front pressed completely up against Ian’s side. His cock is nudging against Ian’s hip, but Mickey’s not even shifting his hips into the friction.

He kisses Ian’s shoulder and when Ian turns his head, the look on Mickey’s face is inexplicably soft.

“I’d choose you too,” he whispers and Ian hadn’t known he’s spoken aloud, but he’s not sorry for it.

Mickey kisses him as his fingers work their way inside of him, stretching him slowly as Mickey’s tongue teases his lips. They kiss and it’s quiet, it’s slow as their heads rest on the same pillow, Mickey’s free hand cupping Ian’s jaw.

Mickey kisses him and Ian can taste his ‘I love you’. It’s better than any words could sound and he takes them hungrily, greedily. He feels them filling up his soul and he almost can’t breathe with it, doesn’t want to. He doesn’t mind suffocating under this, truly.

“Shh,” Mickey whispers and with the hand on the side of his face, he pulls him. He turns him, presses his down into their bed and settles between Ian’s thighs like he was made to fit there.

His fingers have left Ian now and Ian couldn’t say when that happened, but it doesn’t matter and he doesn’t care because Mickey’s pressing the head of his cock to Ian’s hole. He doesn’t ask, but his eyes say, “ _Are you ready?”_

And Ian nods, slides his hands up Mickey’s strong arms to grip his biceps as Mickey’s pushes forwards.

They don’t do this often, but this is always Ian’s favourite bit. He loves the push, the first few seconds when Mickey’s creating space for himself within Ian’s body. It’s the first moment, the first movement that feels so much like Mickey is settling underneath Ian’s skin. Right where Ian wants to keep him, forever.

Mickey quiets him with a gentle kiss, whispers to him words that Ian doesn’t catch, spoken on a breath that stutters in the middle. Mickey’s not exempt from this feeling. He’s being dragged under right along with Ian and they’re both happy in it, they’re both curled there where it’s safe and pleasant and _them_.

Ian watches with wide, blown eyes as Mickey moves above him. He slides his legs up, wraps them around the back of Mickey’s. A foot presses to the back of a knee. Calf presses against calf, hairs scratching.

Connected everywhere and yet at such seemingly random points at the same time.

Mickey is the everything around him, inside of him, with him.

He rolls his hips forwards and down and Ian arches upwards, unable to help himself. They’re the push and pull of magnets, helpless to the forces acting between them. Mickey’s mouth finds the curve of Ian’s throat and Ian’s moan vibrates against his lips, vibrates right through to the stutter of Mickey’s hips.

The orgasm that follows come disconnected and sharp. It slams Ian back to earth, slams him right back into his own body from whatever feeling he was living within. It knocks the breath out of him and he shakes apart in Mickey’s arms, pieces back together with the lap of Mickey’s tongue against his as Mickey follows him out of oblivion and into the real world once again.

Mickey’s breath is rattling, so many years spent smoking making themselves known. He has his face in the curve of Ian’s neck, body dropped heavily on top of Ian’s. Ian whispers his name, whispers his words into Mickey’s sweaty hair, fingers dancing patterns down Mickey’s back.

Mickey goes up on his elbows, eyes blinking wide and then eyelids drooping slightly as his smile spreads wide. He can feel it too still, that fading feeling of realisation, of desperation and of complete and utter need for each other still inside of him. He can feel it, like Ian feels it. He knows what Ian knows, knows that this is their forever.

They’ve found it and they’re living in it now.

So Mickey dips his head and he whispers an answer into Ian’s mouth, into his soul that Ian has always been craving.

He laughs stupidly, right against Mickey’s tongue and hugs him tight, Mickey’s dick still softening inside of him.

“I love you,” he says, meaning it more than he’s meant anything before.

“I love you,” Mickey replies and Ian laughs wildly again, hair and soul on fire and transfixing Mickey like the moth that escaped from the darkest place, drawn forwards by the light.

**Author's Note:**

> I am [themintsauce](http://themintsauce.tumblr.com) on tumblr! :D  
> @BethCottrell is where you'll find most of my updates about stuff.


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